


You think I only think about you when we're both in the same room. You think I'm only here to witness the remains of love exhumed

by Trophy_Kill1991



Series: The Ghosts That We Knew [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, F/M, M/M, Missions, Steve Feels, Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trophy_Kill1991/pseuds/Trophy_Kill1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Back in the field,' Bucky thinks to himself nervously. 'I don’t know how to feel, am I ready for this?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give me the sense to wonder, to wonder if I'm free. Give me a sense of wonder, to know I can be me

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, before you read any further, I did not write chapter one of this part. I'm pathetic at writing action sequences, so my editor and good friend, Chris, decided to help me out. He did about 98.5% of the work here, I just added little bits and pieces. All the credit goes to him for the first chapter. 
> 
> So thanks, Chris! You're friggin' awesome.

_Back in the field_ , Bucky thinks to himself nervously. _I don’t know how to feel, am I ready for this?_ He fidgets with the buttons on the pockets of the new utility pants Stark had had made for him that are tucked into heavy combat boots that lace part-way up his calves. They fit closer to his body than the ones from Hydra, and are much more lightweight which makes them much easier to move around in. His vest, though still bullet-proof, was a light, flexible material similar to what made up Steve’s suits. Stark had reinforced his with extra padding around the ribs, and added some leather belts and straps for firearms and various other weapons in the future. For now the only weapon on his belt is a glock holstered on his right hip, and he’s nowhere near the walking armoury he’d been with Hydra. He was permitted no live steel and was under explicit orders to use the pistol only in a life-or-death emergency. This was a trial run, Bucky reminds himself as he flexes the black, fingerless leather glove on his steel hand; but if he does well here, he’s sure that Tony and the others would have to let him back in the field.

A mask that echoes that of The Winter Soldier covers his mouth and nose, strapping around the back of his head. At Natalia’s urging, Bucky had tied his hair back, and blacked out his eyes with grease-paint to obscure his all too well knows features. He’d startled himself when he’d seen his full appearance back at Stark Tower; it was almost as if The Soldier had come back from the dead. His eyes stood out from the rings of black like two glowing blue pits. It’s hard to deny the fact he’s an intimidating sight to lay eyes on, decked out in all black like something out of a nightmare.

The only issue he has with the mission is his team, but it can’t be helped and he’s determined to make the most of what he’s been given. As it is, he has only been given the chance to go on this mission because of Natalia Romanov, better known as the Black Widow, a name Bucky feels is entirely too apt given her propensity for emotionally destroying the men she’s been with. Tony chose her as team captain when no one could locate Steve for the job and Bucky was in no position to argue by the time he got the okay to go. His activation to trial status came when Nat said she needed Bucky on account of his stealth; that Bucky could understand. What Bucky didn’t understand was when she had insisted on Hawkeye going along too. For the life of him Bucky can’t see the point of having an archer to deal with an armed hostage crisis in a bank. Especially one she intended on approaching with stealth over brute force. There was no room for Bucky to argue with Tony or Natalia on the matter, it was roll with it or stay home and Bucky didn’t want to lose the chance to prove that he was fit for the field.

They roll out at twenty-two hundred hours and twenty seven minutes, Bucky commits the time to memory as everything is crucial to him in such missions, even the time of day. Clint Barton is driving a black van with a mobile command centre in the back and Bucky riding shotgun; with no experience on modern roads, Bucky has little other choice. It aggravates Bucky when Clint talks and the archer picks up on as much after two attempts at conversation, letting them lapse into an uncomfortable silence. It’s a silence Bucky is relishing though, feeling it a great deal more bearable than actually speaking to the man he has a good idea is sleeping with Natalia while she toys with Steve. A female voice is heard over the CV radio. “We’ve entered the zero mile guys. Police have a perimeter set up that encompasses the entire street in front of the bank and the rear alleys, so we’ll have to park at the end of the street and Clint can set himself up there.” 

“Copy that Nat.” Clint answers in a monotone voice, trying to be all business with her over the radio. _A task that involves a great deal of effort,_ Bucky thinks as Clint turns to him. “Nat’s right behind us on her bike, we’ll park here, then get you two fitted for chip radios and sensors and then you’ll follow her to the scene, any questions?”

“No, you’ve explained everything ten times over, including telling me what a chip radio is like I’m some child learning his ABC’s. I might be from the ‘30’s but I’m not some rustic throwback, I’m familiar with new technology.” Bucky all but snaps at Clint, his patience worn thin with the man already.

“Understood.” Clint stares ahead at the road, ignoring the bile in Bucky’s reply as he watches the traffic. “Here we are, I can see the bank, the police won’t let us usurp their crime scene so this is as close as I can get. Okay, hop into the back and I’ll get your mic attached.” 

The van is put into park and Bucky takes a glance through the windshield to take in the scene before him. There’s police crawling everywhere, some in standard uniform, others in black and dark blue SWAT suits with MP5 rifles to hand, ready to charge into the bank at a moment’s notice. Civilians have formed a so far peaceful crowd of spectators and are staying behind the wooden barriers. The sound of the rear doors of the opening draws his attention back to the command centre in the rear of the van, and he joins Clint and now Natalia in the small space full of buzzing computers and glowing screens. “Alright, stick this in your ear, it hides inside like my hearing aids and it’ll let you hear Nat and I.” Clint says, passing a tiny little black bud to Bucky before grabbing a little flesh coloured wire on a clear piece of tape. Bucky pulls his mask off for a minute, wondering why in the hell they couldn’t have just done this before leaving the tower. “And this I’ll stick to your face —hold still — it’s your microphone to let you talk to us.” Hawkeye sticks it in place just beside the mouth with a quick flick of the wrist as he leans his face in close to see what he’s doing. If Bucky didn’t think so low of him, he might think Clint to be handsome. Bucky sets his mask back over his face and tightens it’s straps at the back of his head, huffing impatiently. 

To Bucky’s left is Natalia, applying her own headset and double checking a pair or tech nines she decided to use for this mission. She reaches into a box beneath the bench she’s seated on and brings forth two pairs of night vision goggles. She and Bucky share a glance for a split second as she passes one pair wordlessly to him and Bucky reads the tension very plainly. _We’re professionals; mission first, emotions last_. He thinks to himself while watching her slip the eyewear on over her red locks. It hardly seems to even phase on the woman that she’s left his best friend a broken, shattered soul who’s nowhere to be found right now. 

“Okay, gather around and we’ll see what we’re dealing with.” Clint instructs the two as he starts typing frantically at the keyboard before the impressive computer system. “Alright, both of your headsets are working fine... Let’s hack those cameras and see where everyone in the bank is holed up to… Bingo, we’re in…”

Natalia’s eyes starting looking from screen to screen as the building’s security cameras start sending them images of the inside of the bank. Bucky follows Nat’s line of sight, ensuring he sees everything she does. “I count sixteen hostages, nine adult females, six adult males and one male child.” Bucky starts, going on when no one interrupts. “There are five hostiles, four men, all wearing grey camouflage pants, black turtlenecks and ski masks. And a woman in blue jeans, a brown leather coat, with long dark hair, a bandanna over her face, dark sunglasses.” The former Winter Soldier says aloud for his own benefit as much as it is his allies. 

Nat cuts in with her own observations. “The woman is armed with a Bushmaster semi-automatic and a male with a handgun, Desert Eagle with an extended clip by the look of it. They’re holding all the hostages in the main area in plain view of the police officers outside. She’s clearly calling the shots, judging from her body language. There’s no audio but from what I can read from her lips it seems to be Spanish she’s speaking, or possibly Portuguese. The man with her is fluent in this same language as he’s responding to her, but he’s a subordinate; note his submissive reactions to her when she speaks.” 

“Very good,” Bucky says of his former student before picking up where she left off. “Over here,” he points to the man he’s referring to.  “We have a lone male guarding the rear exit, also armed with a Bushmaster and two more in the vault. Another Bushmaster and a holstered Mauser for one guy and a holstered Desert Eagle for the other, standard magazines for all.” 

“Okay, you both know your stuff and have scoped the scene perfectly; now, back to our building schematics.” Clint comments while tapping a screen directly behind the keyboard, causing a blueprint of the building to show up on the largest screen in the centre of the computer system. “It’s after dark and these guys are in for the long haul, they’ve been here since thirteen hundred hours. They’re not giving in to police so easily, and they’re incredibly hostile, forcing the cops to hold off on storming the place for the safety of the hostages. So they could be here all night, which is why we’re here, to put an end to this standoff. Police won’t let us near it, so we’ll have to sneak in. Can’t go by foot, the place is securely surrounded, so you two are going in via the rooftops.” Clint brings up a map of the area on another screen, indicating with the mouse cursor where he wanted their attention. “Start here, at the apartment complex next door; it’ll put you above the bank by a full storey. There’s enough of a lip on the roofs of both buildings to support a grapnel line, you can zip across to the bank from there. The entry shaft is ten paces off from that, bound to be a shit-ton of screws to deal with but you’ve both got motorized screwdrivers to help with that. Speed is of the essence here people, I can’t stress that enough. Overhead there is a police chopper making passes with a big friggin’ spotlight and if they see you they’ll compromise the mission, so, get in before you’re sighted.” 

Bucky can’t fend off a small shudder at the mention of the grapnel lines, as the memory of his last conversation with Steve rushes back to him… _The wind blows cold between the mountains as Bucky stands at the edge of a cliff, looking down the path the zipline Steve had them set up made. It’s a long, long way down. He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Steve is standing next to him. “Remember that time at Coney Island when I made you ride the cyclone?” He asks._

_“Yeah, I threw up.” Steve says, over the wind._

_“This wouldn’t be payback, would it?” Bucky says, looking down the line, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach again._

_Steve looks up at him from his crouched position, where he’s been checking for the train. He smirks. “Now why would I do that?”_

Clint clears his throat, drawing Bucky from his memory before going on. “Your exit point from the shaft will be in the rear passage, just above the lone hostile guarding the rear door.”

Nat jumps in. “We’ll take him out first, no room for any noise here as the vault is only a dozen paces away.” She points at the location on the blueprint “We make noise and the two hostiles counting cash within will hear and come running with guns a-blazing and jeopardize the whole operation.”

“Nothing we haven’t encountered before, Natalia.” Bucky reminds her. 

“Indeed. Once we’re in, we stay together. We’ll start with the two in the vault and move on to the two in the lobby. It will be two on two in both cases, depending on whether or not we can catch the first pair with the element of surprise. Worst case scenario here is that we’ll bring at least one more of them down on us in the vault. I do mean worst case as that woman strikes me as a loose cannon and I think she could open fire on the hostages if she thinks things are going south.”

With one last check of their gear, which also includes a grapnel and several pairs of plastic, zip tie handcuffs apiece, the two depart into the night. Walking the long way around the crowd; their masks down to avoid suspicion as they make for the apartment building. The police have their collective vision on the bank and pay the complex beside it little mind, allowing for easy entry as Nat makes quick work of the lock on the front door. A second picked lock later and they’re through the access door to the roof. They stay beneath the cover of the doorway until the police chopper passes above, taking the brief pause to put their masks over their faces before sprinting into the waiting darkness. Bucky tosses the grapnel hook, feels it bring tight and secures it to the apartment building. “Okay, you ready?” Bucky asks all too late as Nat goes over the side to grab the line and zip across. 

Following behind quickly, Bucky covers the gap between the roofs and joins Natalia in a dash for the entry shaft, screwdrivers already to hand to go to work on the vent cover. The chopper whirrs in the distance, growing louder as it makes the turn for a return pass. The last screw tumbles to the ground and Natalia slips inside first, Bucky once again brings up the rear, grabbing the vent cover as he crouches in and pulling it into place as best he can, hoping the chopper pilots don’t notice it. It’s a slow crawl on their stomachs, Natalia leading the way and Bucky keeping up. With a quick flick of a finger he switches on his goggles, casting the vent in hues of green before his eyes. Natalia slinks forward silently and from where Bucky lies all he can see is her firm behind enveloped in leather that leaves little to the imagination. Her gluteus muscles go tight whenever she puts a knee forward to move along, making her ass look just divine. _Most men would give their left testicle for this view._ Bucky realizes, wondering why it doesn’t entice him as much as it should. 

“You’re in position Nat,” Bucky hears from Clint over the headset. 

“Copy that,” she whispers back “What’s the status on the hostiles?”

“All in the same position, the man below you has his rifle slung over his back and is pacing lazily.” Clint calls back.

“I copy, okay, I’m lifting the vent cover, tell me when his back is to me Clint.”

“Copy that…” Clint says in a cool tone. “Wait for it… Go, Nat.” 

Without a view around her, it’s impossible for Bucky to see what Nat’s doing, “Okay, I got it Clint. What’s the hostile status?”

“He hasn’t seen a thing… Wait… He’s approaching your position, gun drawn.” Clint calls back nervously.

“Fuck,” Nat whispers angrily. “Bucky, back up, I have to get out of sight.” The pair slowly crawls backwards until Natalia feels safely out of view from the hostile.

“Okay, you’re clear, he doesn’t appear alarmed.” Clint calls back. “Back is to you momentarily, gun slung over it, tuck and roll and take him quickly Nat.”

“Copy that, I’m going in.” She calls back, grabbing the lip of the vent and diving through. After waiting a few beats, Bucky flips his night goggles off, crawls to the cover, passes over the hole and opts to go in legs first, tucking into a roll of his own. When he comes to a stop it brings him up beside a now unconscious gunman lying on his stomach with his hands being secured in zip tie handcuffs by the Black Widow. 

She holds up the gauntlet on her right wrist to show a syringe point protruding beneath the palm of her hand. “Nothing to it, he should be out for a while.” She whispers while retracting the sharp object. “I’ve got one more where that came from.”

“Great work.” Bucky compliments her as she ties the hostiles boot laces together and reverses his ski mask to serve as a blindfold. 

Without prompt Bucky grabs the rifle on the ground, watching Natalia’s eyes go temporarily wide until she figures out that Bucky is unloading the weapon to render it useless. “Just in case the dose isn’t strong enough, no point leaving him a weapon, no matter how bound up he is.” 

“It’s the Widow’s Kiss in liquid form.” Nat replies, seemingly insulted by what Bucky said. “He’s good for about twenty hours.” 

The voice of the female would-be robber travels all around the bank as she shouts at the top of her lungs in Spanish. “Nicaraguan by the sounds of her,” Natalia deduces “She’s doing enough yelling to give us plenty of noise cover. Still though, stay quiet. Let’s split up and get this job done.” 

“Hold it.” Bucky whispers sternly. “Clint, what’s the status of the four remaining hostiles?”

Clint came in over the ear bud. “The two in the vault both got their backs to the door; one is counting cash, the other has decided to start prying at safety deposit boxes. The two in the lobby would have their backs to Natasha when she enters from behind the tellers booths. Do you have a plan we should hear about?”

“Something like that.” Bucky replied back, giving Natalia a sideways glance. 

It is all Bucky can do not to congratulate himself as he stands to the side of the vault door. He can see Natalia crouched low on the corner of the corridor leading to the lobby area and he can plainly read the annoyance on her face. She was left to take down the two in the lobby on her own, waiting on Bucky’s cue to spring into action with him simultaneously. Bucky had formulated the plan when he first saw the bank interior back in the van. Sitting on it until they were well into the mission and beyond a point where Natalia could feasibly refuse. For the first time since before his death Bucky felt he had a little bit of power, he had usurped Natalia’s plan and now she was following his. It was more than that though, Bucky realized. _How do YOU like having the rug pulled from under your feet Natalia?_ He thought to himself smugly. _That was for Steve more than anything else._ Though Bucky knows he is going to enjoy what comes next regardless.

With a last nod to Natalia, Bucky slips beyond the thick, steel door left barely ajar. The two men within are speaking to one another in Spanish with a casual tone, entirely unaware of who is standing behind them. The man armed with the bushmaster and pistol is stacking money in a cash counter machine, the whirring of the device making great noise cover for Bucky. The bushmaster’s cohort armed with only a pistol is crouching on the other side of the table, working feverishly on a safety deposit box. Bucky notices it’s not the fellow’s first, by the state of multitude of little slots on the wall hanging open. Silent footfalls bring Bucky within arm’s reach of the man counting money on the table in the centre of the vault and the mechanical arm grips the back of the man’s skull. Without a second to realize what is befalling him, the man’s face is sent crashing into the steel surface of the table. The sound of his buddy’s face smashing down on stainless steel makes the second man jump, only to come face to face with the pistol Bucky seized with his flesh arm from the cash counter’s holster.

“You speak English?” Bucky asks the man who has instinctively reached for the ceiling. 

“Ye-Yes” The would-be criminal replies in a thick accent over the audible moans of his cohort who is writhing beneath Bucky’s steel arm. Despite the feeble struggle of the robber in his grasp, he’s held firmly to the table, with a pool of blood slowly spreading from his shattered nose.“Take your gun from your holster and slide it under the table to me and perhaps I won’t turn the wall red.” Bucky demands of the man who had been damaging deposit boxes.

“Okay man, take it easy.” He fishes the handgun out and does as ordered.

“Good job.” Bucky compliments while lifting the toe of his boot to stop the pistol from sliding further. His steel arm releases its grip on the first man’s head, going for the strap on the rifle slung across his back. Bucky collects the pistol on the ground and unloads all three weapons in quick order, tossing the empty guns to one corner of the room and the magazines to the opposite side. The quizzical look on the robber without his face smashed in is noticeable through the ski mask and Bucky stares him down menacingly. “This is your chance.” Bucky says in a put on, deep voice while the other robber slides to the floor clutching his destroyed nose, moaning all the while. 

The robber with his hands up answers Bucky. “My chance for what, man?”

“I’m going to give you a shot to walk out of here; all you have to do is beat me hand to hand.” Bucky cracks the knuckles on his flesh hand while staring down the thug. “Think you can do that? I’ll even let your friend help you out if he’s not too busy soaking that mask with blood.” 

“That’s it? I beat you, I go? How do I know I can believe you?” The robber asks the questions rapidly and warily. 

“What other option do you have?” Bucky shrugs, taking a step back from the table and crouching into a fighting stance. The adrenaline begins rushing through his veins immediately as the thug with a functioning nose puts his fists up in a boxer style, approaching Bucky cautiously. 

The thug throws a sloppy right cross, swinging for the fences off the start. Bucky parries it almost lazily with his left, pushing back with his metal hand. “Oh come on, you can do better than that.” He taunts the Hispanic man. 

Responding to the taunt the man lunges for Bucky’s legs, tumbling to a pile when Bucky sidesteps him like a matador avoiding the bull. “You’re not even trying, are you?” Bucky says to coax the man on. The fellow with the busted nose has crawled beneath the table and seems in no hurry to join the fight; despite his friend shouting at him in Spanish in what Bucky assumes is a plea for assistance. The able thug curses on his friend and grabs a handful of currency to throw in Bucky’s face, taking a swing at the opponent he thinks is thrown off by the paper smokescreen. It’s a feeble attempt at best as Bucky isn’t fazed by the barrage of twenty dollar bills and sees the punch coming through it aimed for his face. The lunging left cross is stopped dead with Bucky’s steel hand and Bucky clamps down pressure on the captured fist. “You know, I don’t blame you for fighting dirty, I’m just disappointed is all.” Bucky leans in close and whispers at the whimpering man in incredible pain as the bones in his hand are pressed together in the vice-like grip of the steel arm. 

Before the thug can open his mouth Bucky releases the man’s fist and grabs him by the turtleneck with both hands and tossing him into the steel table. The impact sends it, the stacks of cash and the man rolling over one another and into the wall of safety deposit boxes at the back of the room with a loud crash. _That should be more than enough noise to get the attention of the crooks in the front of the bank._ Bucky thinks as he rolls his shoulders and dusts himself off to give the broken-nose robber the impression that his guard was lowered. The shrieks of the gun toting Hispanic woman from the lobby reach the ears of both conscious men and the remaining robber knows the jig is up. “Oh fuck, the pigs got Yolanda! But they ain’t takin’ me alive, man! There ain’t no way I’m going back to Ryker’s Island with all those super freaks like you!” The robber swings wildly at Bucky with lefts and rights as he springs forward and the blows rain down ineffectively on Bucky’s forearms. Bucky breaks through the barrage and wraps his steel fingers around the man’s throat. With a smash he drives his skin and bone forearm into the face of the man while shoving him into the wall beside the vault door. 

Without hesitation Bucky yanks the emergency pistol free from the holster on his thigh and presses the muzzle into the robber’s temple. “Jesus Christ man!” The robber groans through the shattered remains of his teeth. “What the fuck are you, man?! What the fuck are you?!”

Bucky is breathing heavy, his face a mere few inches from the other mans, his own intense stare meeting the frantic, terrified eyes of the robber. “I ask myself that question every. Fucking. Day. Am I the killer I was programmed to be all those years ago or am I still the man I once was, before the war?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, man, just fucking kill me if you’re going to do it, you son of a bitch!” The robber spits bloodily. Bucky grinds the muzzle of the glock into the temple of the man in his grasp, feeling himself trembling as he struggles with the decision before him.

“You are James Buchanan Barnes.” Bucky hears in his ear. “Do you hear me? You are James Buchanan Barnes, you always have been and you always will be. Hydra couldn’t kill the man within the shell, he lives and he’s the only thing keeping that guy in your grasp alive.”

_Steve._ Bucky realizes, picking up the voice. He’s on the frequency the headset is tuned to, overriding Clint still sitting in his van. _That’s why I haven’t heard a word out of Clint since I stepped into the vault._ “How long have you been listening in, punk?” Bucky asks while not breaking his stare with the crook, befuddling him entirely.

“From the second Clint put them earpieces and mics on you and Natasha.” Steve says calmly. “Tony, Bruce, Sam and I are here at Stark Tower monitoring the whole operation, cameras and all. What, you didn’t think Clint was the chief operator on all of this did you? I got Clint to patch me through after you launched your little surprise plan. I didn’t know if you were going to lose yourself and we both know I’m the only one who could have talked you back from that edge.” 

Bucky groans as Steve talks and jumps in when he finishes. “Can you? You weren’t _there_ today Steve, it should be you here right now. Look at me, I’m not ready to be back in the field, _where were you_?”

The man in Bucky’s grasp is growing more terrified by the second at what he thinks is Bucky talking to himself. “What the fuck are you talking about, man? Who are you talking to?”

"Shut the fuck up.” Bucky snarls back at him, granting him the silence from the criminal he sought. 

“Yes you are Buck, I know you are.” Steve replies confidently once Bucky goes silent.

“How do you know that?!” Bucky tries to keep his voice low and all but shouts back.

“The perp is still alive, Buck.” There’s a calm, coolness in Steve’s voice as he says as much. “If you were still a Hydra drone, he’d be dead on the ground. Both of them would, and the guy in the hallway. They’re all alive because they weren’t the targets of a Hydra soldier; they were taken down by James Buchanan Barnes, to be brought to justice. Now subdue him, meet Natasha and prepare for extraction.”

“You didn’t answer me Steve. Where the hell were you today when Tony was looking for you?” Bucky is adamant about getting that information.

“I… I had some things I needed to sort out on my own.” Steve’s tone is entirely melancholic and Bucky can hear it just about breaking. “I just… I really needed to be alone, out of Stark Towers where everyone knows where you are at all times and can follow your every move. I needed some true alone time.” A measure of familiar strength returns to Steve’s tone. “But I’m here now. Once I got back Tony told me what was happening and I came to the command centre right away. You’re right, I should have been there today, it should be me in there right now, but it’s not, it’s you and I take responsibility for that. This is nothing you can’t handle though; you know that and so do I, that’s why you offered to go when Tony came looking for me.” Bucky feels as though he’s talking to Captain America now, the inspiring hero to millions who always knows the right thing to say. Not fragile little Stevie Rogers from Brooklyn who just had his heart broken by a red haired dame in tight pants.

_You wear your mask but I know the man beneath it, Steve._ Bucky finds himself almost saying aloud, but he holds the thought inside and turns his attention back to the man squirming uselessly in the grasp of his steel arm. “You asked me what the fuck I am? Well, I think I have your answer and you’re not going to like it.”

“Don’t do it Bucky! He’s not worth it!” Steve shouts in his ear. “Think about everything you have right now, all of that will vanish if you pull that trigger. Fury’s going to come down hard on us, and even harder on you if we have a fatality here. You’re not a heartless killer Bucky, you never were that person! You’re James Buchanan Barnes, the greatest friend I’ve ever had and the best person I’ve ever known. I don’t want to live this life without you in it anymore Bucky, I just got you back, don’t let what we just got back end over some idiot bank robber.”

His flesh arm is quaking visibly as Bucky holds the pistol to the man’s head while Steve talks directly into Bucky’s ear. When Steve is done saying his piece Bucky leans in close to the thug’s face. “Do me a favour, you little shit.” He says in a deep, guttural growl like the singer of those death metal bands Tony likes so much. “When you get to the hell I’m sending you to-“

“BUCKY NO!” Steve screams. “Tony, work this fucking contraption and tell Natasha to get in that vault!”

“-Tell the ‘super freaks’ you love so much and any other delinquents there that the Winter Soldier is back.” Bucky takes a step back and lunges a knee into the midsection of the robber, driving all the wind from his lungs. He holsters the glock with his flesh arm and drives the man down to the ground face first with his steel one. With a knee placed firmly on the back of the perp Bucky slips the zip cuffs over the guy’s wrists without resistance. 

“It’s okay Steve; I said _HE_ wasn’t going to like it. He wanted to die over going back behind bars and I wasn’t about to give him such a luxury.” Bucky calls into the microphone on his face, trying to calm his friend’s nerves.

“You did well.” Bucky hears back, but it’s not from the earpiece and it’s not Steve. His eyes go to the vault door to see Natalia leaning on the doorframe as cool and composed as if she was a neighbour dropping by his house for a visit. “Let’s get that guy under the upturned table handcuffed and get out of here before the cops are finished evacuating the hostages.”

“You gave me a good scare for a second there, jerk.” Bucky hears in his ear from relieved voice that sounds like music to his ears.

“I’ll see you back at the tower, punk.” He calls back. “Over and out.”

The pair finishes restraining the last of the perps and hastily makes their exit once Clint confirms that the police have abandoned the rear door to enter through the front. The sounds of the police officers barking orders to one another from the front of the bank reach Bucky’s ears as he and Nat slip out into the night. “I heard the woman shout, did she give you much of a fight?” Bucky asks Natalia when they’re on the other side of the apartment building they had entered through earlier and out of sight. 

Nat stifles a laugh. “What, that crazy thing and her little bitch of a man? I’m almost insulted that you think they could have given me any trouble. You trained me better than that.”

“I had to ask.” Bucky shrugs as the reach the van, pulling the night vision goggles off his head while saying so.  

The door of the van pops open and Bucky sees Clint waiting in his chair with a big smile from ear to ear. “Great job, both of you, really, that couldn’t have went better.” He says, beaming with pride. 

“We had a good operator.” Nat laughs lightly as she steps into the van, ripping off her own goggles and tossing them aside as she falls into Clint’s lap to embrace. Finding their impromptu make-out session a little unsettling, Bucky plucks the earbud and mic from his face and walks around the van to the front seat. Opting to just hear their lips smacking rather than see it. 

“Oh shit, where’d Bucky go?” Clint asks suddenly, the noises of the chair squeaking as the two finally get off one another’s face reaching Bucky. 

“I’m right here.” Bucky answers back in a monotone voice. “We should be getting back.” “Ah yeah, that’s a good idea,” Clint clears his throat “We’ll debrief back at Stark Tower. Everyone’s waiting for us, and I’m sure Steve can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” Bucky answers in the same tone.

Bucky glances over his shoulder just as Natalia slides out of the van and lifts a leg over her motorcycle. “Love you honey, see you back at the tower.” Clint calls to her while she reaches for her helmet.

“Love you too.” She calls back before Clint can close the van doors.

_Yeah Clint,_ _they’re all waiting for us…Especially Steve._ Bucky thinks to himself as Clint slips quietly into the driver’s seat.


	2. What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.

If Steve knew that there’d be a call to assemble, he never would have left the apartment early that morning. He never would have left Bucky alone, and Bucky never would have pushed himself this hard. Steve paces the living area of the common room while Tony, Sam and Bruce sit at the round table, each of them waiting for the rest of their team to return back to Headquarters from their latest mission. Steve’s a wreck; Bucky had stupidly tried to go back in the field, even though he wasn’t completely ready, just to prove a point. 

_Well, he proved a point alright. Too damn bad it was the wrong one, and now I’ve got to deal with the fallout._ Steve thought, raking a hand through his hair for the tenth time in the last five minutes. _He wasn’t ready, and he almost snapped. If I had been there, if I was with him when they went into that vault, he never would have gotten that far gone. Hell, I’m lucky that I was able to talk him down._

Steve mentally kicks himself. His emotions had been getting the best of him for too long, and he needed to put things back to the way they were. He was _Captain Fucking America_ , not some love-struck teenager who’d just lost their first girlfriend. He couldn’t act like this, even if he wanted nothing more than to just disappear from the world for a while to sort himself out. What made matters worse: Sam setting him up on some stupid blind date for Stark’s annual Christmas Gala. Had this been before, the idea would have made him laugh; him, on a blind date? Yeah, because that’d go well. But now, after the way things with Natasha had gone down, Steve was almost positive he was off dating for the next…Well, forever. 

He’d come to realize long ago that no relationship he’d ever have was going to be completely normal. There were nights when The Avengers would have to leave at a moment’s notice, and Steve was sure that most normal women wouldn’t be too thrilled about that. Sure, they might say they’d understand, though Steve knew they wouldn’t. The only way something was going to work with him was with someone in the same field. Right now, the only woman he could think of was Natasha.

_Who said you had to be with a woman?_ His conscience sneers at him, still sounding too much like Bucky. 

Steve sighs and drags his hand through his hair…Again. This was too much.

But thankfully, his thoughts are distracted by the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. Natasha leads the group in, her body encased in tight leather and Kevlar, her weapons belt slung around her hips, and several more holsters strapped to her thighs. Clint isn’t far behind, his bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulders, dressed in all black. Bucky brings up the rear, and goddamn, if he didn’t look good in the gear Tony had created for him. Despite not having any weapons on his person — save the single pistol at his right hip — he looked downright intimidating: A tall, chiselled frame of solid muscle clad entirely in black from neck to toe save for that steel arm.

His eyes were blacked out in greasepaint like he’d done in the war when he was sniping, and the mask covered his lower face. Steve did his best to suppress a shudder as his eyes involuntarily scanned his friend’s form too many times to be considered polite.

Steve smiles at Bucky, who strips his mask off. His full, gorgeous lips pull up in one corner as their eyes lock, and Steve feels the overwhelming urge to hug his friend, tell him how proud he is of a job well done. Of course, he knows that hugging is not a welcome gesture these days. _He’s like a cat._ Steve thinks. _You have to let him come to you. If you try and pin him down, or hold on too tight, you’ll get the claws._ He can’t fight the way his lips twitch into a smirk as he thinks as much to himself.

Stark clears his throat to get the attention of the room’s occupants and looks around at each. “Well now that all of us — including Doomsday Jesus over there — are here, we can get this done and over with. We’ve all got better things to do.” Tony says as he reclines back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table casually. The three sit down in vacant chairs, while Steve opts to stand. “Barton, give us the run-down; top to bottom.”

As Clint begins to recap the day’s mission, Steve continues to pace the floor. He’s hardly listening, still mad at himself for not being there when the team needed him, all because of a selfish need to be alone. Bucky is sitting between Bruce and Clint, ashy blue-grey eyes watching Steve through the heavy greasepaint. Steve doesn’t need to look to know he’s being watched; he’s known how those eyes feel on the back of his head for years. He knows Bucky is mad at him for disappearing like that. Steve understands that he probably should have at the very least left a note. But it’s all too late and he can’t change what’d been done. 

It seems like hours as Clint discusses the various components of the mission, detailing in great length the strike plan and Natasha had lain out. A plan that Bucky had quickly abandoned in an attempt to garner himself more leverage with the team. Steve knows that Bucky hates not being in control now, hates not being able to make the call… 

Bucky Barnes had been the right hand man of Captain America, the leader of the Howling Commandos; the guy had a fair amount of pull. Of course, he never would defy Steve’s orders, but the men still had to obey Bucky Barnes and he was a good man, a leader.

By contrast, the Winter Soldier was a weapon of mass destruction, something to be used and to be ordered around. He was nothing more than a puppet controlled by Hydra, forced to do countless acts of violence. The Winter Soldier has more blood on his hands than anyone in the room.

But the man who sits in the room with them now, he’s neither of those men and both all at once. Steve knows how badly Bucky wants to be the man he’d been in 1942, how hard he’s trying to revert back to those old days again. Bucky wants to lead when everything in him screams to follow. The Soldier wants to kill when everything else tells him not to. He’s conflicted and Steve can only imagine the battles Bucky fights with the two sides of himself. Steve had had a feeling that something like this was going to happen if Bucky was under the command of someone who wasn’t himself or Steve.

Steve shakes the thoughts and tries to tune back into the meeting in progress around him. Clint is still talking, being interrupted here and there by Natasha or Bucky who add details of their own. It’s then that Steve begins to notice something different about Natasha. She sits with her chair a little too close to Clint, who’s got an arm slung lazily around the back of it. Natasha sends Clint glances from time to time, her lips tugging up in the corner for a fleeting second before dropping back again. Steve knows that smirk; she’d been giving Steve that same smirk for months. 

_Are they flirting?_ Steve thinks, somewhat scandalized by the thought. _We haven’t been broken up that long!_  

His conscience snorts in his head. _She couldn’t have picked a better name than Black Widow. Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em for dead. Whatta bitch._

Steve purses his lips and pays closer attention to the meeting.

It’s late into the evening by the time all the minor details are fleshed out. Tony doesn’t seem the least bit concerned at the sudden snap in Bucky while in the field. In fact, Tony didn’t mention it at all. Stark is silent for a minute, looking between each of the three who’d been part of the mission. “Good work, team. The situation was handled and the perps are in custody…Some a little more broken up than others, but well, that’s all we can do.” Tony swings his legs down and stands up from the table. “Get some rest. Barnes, I want to see you in the lab tomorrow morning so we can finish the adjustments on your arm.”

Steve watches as Bucky gives a curt nod in response. The rest of the team filters out slowly, each heading to their designated floors until Steve and Bucky are left alone. They say nothing and just stare at one another for a long moment. Bucky’s eyes are cold and his mouth draws into a tight line. Steve’s expression is nothing but apologetic as he looks back, searching for the words to explain what happened. But Bucky is having none of it and roughly pushes past Steve into the waiting elevator. He doesn’t close the doors and leave without Steve, deciding instead to just lean against one of the corners, arms folded over his broad chest, eyes downcast at his boots. Steve follows him inside and presses the button to their floor. 

Still, nothing is said.

It’s not until they reach the privacy of their own quarters that Bucky snaps. “Where, in the _FUCK_ , were you?” He demands, voice low as those eyes pierce Steve with a sharp look. “Tony was calling you for a good hour, Pepper couldn’t get a hold of you and neither could I. Hell, even Jarvis couldn’t locate you!”

“I had to get out of the tower for a little while.” Steve replies, like it’s the answer that Bucky wants. It isn’t. 

Bucky laughs coolly. “You keep saying that, Steve, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.” 

“Honestly,” Steve starts, keeping his tone even. “I needed some time _alone_. No Tony, no Pepper, no Sam and no Jarvis… I really just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“No me, you mean.” Bucky interrupts, still cold.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “No! God, Bucky, no!” He sighs and flops down onto the couch as Bucky stands across the room, hands planted on his hips, fixing him with a death glare. “How could I want to get away from you? I just got you back.” 

Bucky scoffs. “It’s kind of EXACTLY what you just said, Steve. What, am I too much for you now? Can’t stand seeing what Hydra did to me?”

“Jesus, Buck, would you give me a fucking second to explain!?” Steve snaps, without meaning to sound so angry. But Bucky’s mouth snaps shut and his eyes widen at the sudden way Steve curses at him. Steve sighs. “It isn’t you, Buck. You know that. I wanted to get away and get out of your hair, if nothing else. I’ve been burdening you with so much the past couple weeks, and I feel like I’ve been selfish. You’ve got your own shit to deal with, you don’t need mine too.”

Bucky takes a seat on the coffee table, directly across from where Steve sits, elbows on his knees as their eyes lock. “I remember knowing you well enough to know when you need help. You were drowning in your own sorrow Steve; I just wanted to pull you back up.”Steve smiles a little bit. “I know and I’m sorry if I scared you when I just left like that. But I dunno, I guess I didn’t think it through. We haven’t had a mission in weeks, so it was the last thing on my mind when I left my phone on the dresser.”

Bucky is quiet for a few minutes and then gives a single nod. “Well, you had me worried sick. No one could find you. Your shield was still by the door, you didn’t have your phone…” 

“I said I was sorry for that.” Steve says, arching an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, I know. But Steve, you have to look at it from my point of view; you’ve been borderline manic depressive the past few weeks. You’ve become a recluse. You don’t leave the apartment, let alone leave it by yourself with no way to contact you. Forgive me for worrying, but really? What the hell was I supposed to think!?” Bucky says, his eyes threatening to fill up. Steve could see the way they started to shimmer in lamp light. 

Steve almost laughs in disbelief at what he hears coming from Bucky’s mouth. He drags a hang down his face and shakes his head. “Really, Bucky? You thought I’d off myself over a girl. Jesus Christ, you really don’t know me anymore do you?” 

It’s a visible change in Bucky that Steve sees then. He sits back, shoulders squaring off as he fixes Steve with another deathly glare. “I do know you, Steve.” He says in voice low filled with danger. “I know that you don’t sleep around. You aren’t like I used to be back then. You wanted to wait for the right dame and I remember that as clear as day. No, I _do_ know you, and I know how it feels to have your heart broken. You may not be the runt you used to be, but even you’re susceptible to the thoughts that fill your head when your heart shatters.” 

He can’t keep looking at Bucky when he stares that intensely, so he opts instead for his lap. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Steve offers softly, earning a sigh from Bucky. “And you know you didn’t have to take my place in the field today.” 

Bucky shrugs. “Nat thought I was ready, Tony thought I was ready; Bruce was a little hesitant, but couldn’t see the harm so long as I wasn’t armed. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” 

“Even so, you saw what happened. You pushed too hard, and you nearly snapped.” 

“But you talked me down.”

“What if I wasn’t there, Buck? What if I hadn’t shown up in time?” Steve replies. “I’m not saying I don’t want you in the field with me, so don’t even start.” He says when he sees Bucky’s mouth start to form arguments. “All I mean is that you don’t need to force yourself into these things. We understand that you’re going to need some time to come back into your own. And we — the whole team — are willing to wait as long as you need us to.”

Bucky drags a hand through his hair — which had apparently been taken down sometime between them getting into the elevator and now. “It’s fine Steve, just…” He sighs. “Just don’t leave me like that again.”

_I could never leave you._ Steve thinks, though he just nods in response. Bucky gets up from where he sits and heads down the hall in the silence to clean up. Steve gets up then as well, knowing that Bucky is likely hungry after a long day, and moves methodically about the kitchen, making dinner. He knows it’s late, but he hadn’t eaten all day. He thinks over all that had been said and how right Bucky had been. Were the situation reversed, and were it Bucky who had randomly gone missing with no way to find him; Steve would have been a whole world of panic and irrational thoughts. His anger towards Steve earlier was most certainly not unjustified. 

He’s dumping some chopped peppers into a sizzling pan when Bucky emerges from the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out after him. His hair is tied up again, though his face is scrubbed clean of the black war paint. Black track pants hang low off Bucky’s hips and a grey tank covers his chest. Bucky is leaning against the counter, watching Steve as he moves about the kitchen, stirring the cooking veggies and meat in the pan on the stove. “Look, Steve…I’m sorry I lost it like that. I didn’t —“

“It’s alright, Buck.” Steve replies, his back to his friend. “I would have done the same if it was you.” 

Bucky is silent and Steve looks over his shoulder. He’s got his arms folded over his chest and his eyes on the floor. He chews on the side of his lower lip, perhaps a little too hard, and he fidgets uncomfortably as he stands. Those beautiful eyes refuse to look up even for a moment, and they cloud over, dark and haunted.

Steve knows that look. It’s the ‘I have more to say, but I won’t say it because I don’t want to cause an argument’ look that Bucky used to get when they lived together in the 30’s. Steve always used to give Bucky hell for drinking so much and staying out all night at dance halls and bars when they could scarcely afford rent as it was. Bucky would just take the tongue lashing in silence, that same look on his face until Steve was finished scolding. Sometimes, Steve felt more like a worried mother hen than anything else, but he often worried about his friend when he wouldn’t come home at night.

Silently, Steve sets the table for dinner and dishes up the stir fry that’s been cooking on the stove. Bucky sits down quietly, still avoiding meeting Steve’s glance as they eat in silence. “Where’d you go, anyway?” Bucky asks after a while, poking at his food with a fork. He looks up briefly, and Steve smirks a little bit. 

“Took my sketchbook and iPod down to Central Park.” Steve explains. “I wanted some peace and quiet, just time to myself to work things out, you know? I didn’t want Tony harassing me to go out on the town. I didn’t want Sam urging me to talk it out, or set me up on any more blind dates. Just wanted to sit on my own and just…Think.” He nods towards the heavy leather-bound sketch book that sits on the table beside Bucky’s right arm. “Take a look, if you want.” 

He watches Bucky flip through the pages quietly, eyes scanning each drawing for a few seconds before trying the page. He stops at a familiar landscape. “This is the old place, isn’t it?” Bucky asks, looking up. 

Steve nods as he swallows the mouthful he’d been chewing. “Yeah.” He replies. “I was sitting in the park, drawing one of the fountains when this band came on my iPod. The Barenaked Ladies, or something like that. Anyway, the first song that came on I really liked, so I kept the band on and this other song played. It reminded me of the old place, our apartment. It made me smile and put this stupid idea in my head to go and find it.” 

Bucky snorts, though his eyes still stare fondly at the sketch on the page. “Why would you want to go and find that shit hole?” He asks. “

“I dunno. Been thinking a lot about those days lately.” Steve tells him honestly. “We might have been broke and hungry a lot of the time —“ 

“And cold.” Bucky interrupts.

Steve smirks. “Yeah and cold; but think about it, we were so happy. Ok yes, we stressed about rent every month, and the walls were thinner than paper, and I nearly died once or twice because of that stupid furnace —“

“It was every. Fucking. Winter.” Bucky says, dryly. “You almost died, every fucking winter.”

Steve laughs then and rolls his eyes sarcastically. “Ok, fine, every winter. But we still had each other. We might have had our issues…You might have drank too much, and I might have gotten sick too many times to still be alive, but we were happy. No Captain America. No Winter Soldier…Just two stupid kids from Brooklyn trying to make a go of it.” 

Bucky smiled fondly at the page again and runs his thumb down the soft paper. “I guess that’s true.” He says, voice more gentle and warm than Steve had heard him in all the time he’d been back. “But Jesus, that place was such a dump! It was old when we lived there; god only knows how old it was before we came along.” He scoffs as he closes the book and picks up is empty plate to wash up. “Remember that one floorboard that used to squeak so loud it’d wake the baby in the apartment under ours?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you stepped on it every time you stumbled home drunk.” Steve says fondly. 

“Hey now, what happened when I was drunk doesn’t count!” Bucky laughs. 

“So about ninety percent of the time doesn’t count?” Steve quips, smirking. 

Bucky laughs again and flicks him with water from the sink. “Watch it punk.”

Steve grins broadly and laughs in return. “Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, jerk.”

Steve can’t help the smile on his face, hearing Bucky actually sound a little like his old self again. He watches in silence as Bucky gathers all the dishes and dumps them into the sink, washing them up like he’d done back then with the dishtowel hung over his shoulder and a song on his lips. For a few minutes, Steve can pretend that it’s still 1936 and they just moved into the old place and Bucky is cleaning up after their first meal in their very own kitchen. For a few minutes, Steve can forget that he ever lost his best friend, that he’d mourned Bucky’s death harder than he had his own mothers. For a few minutes, Steve can imagine that they’re still those two stupid kids from Brooklyn and he’s hopelessly in love with his best friend who’s standing at the sink, washing up the evenings dishes.

Of course, it doesn’t last long, especially when the overhead pot lights are glinting off Bucky’s cybernetic arm, and his overly long hair falls out of its messy knot at the back of his neck. 

Steve sighs. “It’s gone, you know.” Steve says sadly as he gets up to start putting the clean dishes back in the cupboards. Bucky looks over his shoulder for a second, their eyes meeting before Steve finishes the thought. “The old building.”

“Figured.” Bucky laughs, though it’s got a note of sadness to it too. “Like I said, that place was ancient.” 

“Yeah, there’s some huge complex there now, looks real nice.” Steve’s eyes dart over to the sketchbook on the table. “The scenery is a little different too, but it felt familiar enough, you know? It was still our block, still our bad part of town. The docks were still only a little ways away too. Most of what I drew there was from memory.” 

Bucky nods, letting the water out of the sink. The conversation slows from there and they go about their business with the radio playing from the kitchen. Bucky is sitting back at the table with a file and notepad in front of him and a pen in his right hand. His left is buried in his hair as he scribbles down the events of the mission he’d taken part in. Stark liked to have each team members written version on file, in the event that something doesn’t line up to the hire-ups. Steve hated having to write them up and it looked as if Bucky did as well. Steve sits on the other end of the table, cleaning up a sketch, fleshing out some of its finer details. 

He can feel Bucky’s eyes on him from time to time, and he looks up. Their eyes lock and Steve can see pity shining through those ashy blue eyes. Another time, it’s fear and the final time, it’s sadness. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to sit here all night and just deal with these looks you’re giving me?” Steve asks after a while, hand never stopping it’s movements across the page. 

Bucky sighs. “Fuck I can’t just not tell you.” He mutters under his breath, pushing the stray strands of hair from his face. “I think you need to take Sam up on his blind date.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow, still drawing away. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you need to move on.” 

“So we’re back on the Natasha conversation.” Steve replies, rolling his eyes. 

Bucky drops his pen and fixes Steve with a pleading look. “I’m serious, Steve. You need to leave this alone, stop waiting around for her to come back to you. It’s not going to happen.” His voice is soft and as sympathetic as Bucky can muster these days, and Steve just shrugs. “Goddammit.” Bucky sighs. 

Steve lays his pencil down on his sketchbook and looks right back at Bucky, curiosity on his face. “Why? What difference does it make, if I wait around or if I don’t.”

“She isn’t coming back, Steve!” Bucky says. “I…I saw her with Clint today and not like you think. She just…Sat herself down in his lap when we got back to the van and kissed him and he kissed back like he owned her.” 

Steve’s face falls blank and his eyes grow cold, without meaning to. “What?” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth! She said she loved him, Steve, and I know that she couldn’t say it to you.”

He fixes Bucky with a glare as he rises to his feet, hands flat on the kitchen table. “And you’re only telling me about this now?”

“I know, I should have said something first…But Christ, I needed you to know how worried about you I was!” Bucky’s voice has turned small, almost frightened as Steve looms over the table. “Just sit back down, we can talk this out.”

Steve shakes his head sharply. “What good will that do?” Steve snaps, before marching across the room to the elevator doors. “Jarvis, can you tell Agent Romanov to meet me in the common room — alone — please?” Steve asks, waiting for the elevator to arrive. 

“Goddammit, Steve, Sit back down. This is pointless! What good will confronting her do?!” Bucky shouts from across the room. 

He rounds on his friend then, hands balled into fists as anger starts to well up in his chest. “I need the truth from her.” He spits back, somewhat too coldly. “She told me the night this all started that she and Clint were nothing. That they were…how’d she put it…Stress relief. And now you’re telling me that they’re exchanging ‘I Love You’s’, not two months after she and I call it quits? No, I need to hear what she’s got to say about this.”

By the time he finishes his tirade, the elevator is open behind him and he storms inside, jamming the common room button as he does. Bucky doesn’t try and argue again and Steve watches as Bucky just sits back down while the doors slide closed. He’s fuming by now, wondering how she could lie to him like that. After everything they’d done, after everything they’d seen…She’d just lie to him like it was nothing? No, Steve couldn’t handle that. 

The doors slide open again and Natasha is sitting on the counter, filing her nails. She’s alone. “Jarvis, please shut down the audio and video surveillance to this room.” Steve asks calmly. 

“Of course, Captain.” Comes the reply. 

Natasha looks up at him, lips quirked up in one corner. “Is this going to get that ugly, Steve?” She asks. 

“I want answers.” Steve demands. “And I want the truth. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if Steve seems a little whiney and self-centred lately. I promise, that changes soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading, all the same!


	3. But I'm only human, and I bleed when I fall down. I'm only human, and I crash and I break down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve storms into the apartment an hour or so later, his every muscle wound tight, looking like he was ready to fight someone. Bucky knows that look…Well, he did, kind of anyway. He knew it when Steve was five-foot-four and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet with his pockets full of rocks. It was harmless back then, almost funny in a way. Like that little scrap was going to take on someone three times his size. But now, Steve’s six-feet-four-inches of solid muscle and immeasurable power, and that look was downright frightening. Whatever had happened down in the common room between he and Natalia had clearly left a mighty terrible taste in Steve’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry sorry...

Bucky can do nothing once Steve’s temper spikes like that. He remembered as much from the old days. Stubborn little shit always had to act on impulse, even if it meant getting his ass beaten into the ground. Of course, Bucky had always been beside him to help clean up the mess Steve made. But now, this was different. This time, the stubborn little shit wasn’t so little, and he was being dragged around by the balls by some red-haired dame that didn’t know a good thing when it hit her in the face. Maybe, just maybe, Steve was right to want to truth of the situation he’d gotten himself into this time. 

But whether or not he could handle that truth was another story entirely. And right now, Bucky was beginning to think that he couldn’t. 

Heartbreak wasn’t something anyone was able to escape, and it seemed that Steve was having the hardest time getting past it. It kills Bucky to see his friend like this. Worst of all, the way Steve had just disappeared that morning with no indication of where he’d gone had been one of the most frightening things Bucky could remember. Bruce had assured him for hours that Steve was just fine, and that he’d more than likely just forgotten his phone out of habit. But Bucky had a bad feeling the entire day. They hadn’t seen Steve the way he had in the past few weeks. They didn’t see the way Steve would lie lifelessly on the couch reading, or drawing, or sometimes watching television. Bucky knew that Steve only bakes when he’s upset, and at least a dozen times so far there were fresh muffins or cookies sitting on the kitchen counter. Steve was spiralling, and Bucky couldn’t stop it because Steve wouldn’t let him help.

Bucky is absolutely despondent for having told Steve what he had witnessed between Natalia and Clint after the mission. _He has a right to know._ Bucky tries to reassure himself, as he sits back down to finish his report. _If it was me, I’d want to know too._

_Maybe this is just the push he needs to leave that cold-hearted bitch behind. Maybe this will inadvertently push him into your waiting arms…Err…Arm?_ His conscience says. 

Bucky flexes his steel fingers and sighs. _I’d do anything to have him…I just don’t want to watch him suffer like this._

He does his best to get back to his work, to finish off his report for Tony before morning, but his eyes keep looking towards the elevator, waiting for Steve to get back. Bucky knows that Steve is going to need him when he returns, and Bucky is determined to stay right here and wait. But he can’t focus. 

Bucky gets back up from his seat and mills about the apartment, straightening everything up to military standards, not that their place is what one would ever consider messy. He picks around the room, putting the few dishes left on the counter away, thoughts drifting back to the mission that had taken place earlier that evening all the while.

_What would have happened if Steve didn’t show up when he did?_ Bucky thinks, smoothing out one of the pillows that sit on the couch. _Would I have actually killed that thug? Would I have snapped that easily? I mean, after everything these guys have done for me, taking me in like this…Would I really just go back to what I used to be so damn easily?_

He looks off into space as he thinks it over. Of course, he likes to believe that he wouldn’t ever dare do something like that, not after all the work Steve, Bruce and Sam have done to make him half way normal. But, he’d almost lapsed. And it had been so easy just to slip back into that shell. Like the Soldier was just hovering in the background, waiting for a moment of weakness in Bucky to crop up, so he could take back the body that had been given to him. Bucky shoots his steel hand a glare. 

_Damn this thing._ He curses, as the steel fingers ball into a solid fist. _Damn Hydra. Damn the whole fucking war._

His thoughts drift away from the horrors of that day and fall back to the earlier conversation with Steve, before he’d stormed off. Steve had been right; despite the awful living conditions they’d faced back then, the years spent living in that decrepit apartment had been the best Bucky could remember. That he could partially remember, anyway. Not everything had come back yet, but a lot of it had and what had surfaced was good. Hot summer nights spent out on the fire escape, trying to find some kind of breeze to cool down. Cold winter days spent huddled in bed with Steve to keep the little fucker warm. He smirks to himself and continues to poke around at things to keep himself busy. 

By the time he’s done all he can, Steve still isn’t back. He’s lost track of time, isn’t sure of how long his friend had been gone, but he was sure it was closing in on a couple of hours. Or at least, that’s how it felt. Bucky sighs and sits back down to finish his report for Tony, who is expecting it by morning. For the life of him, Bucky can’t think of a more mundane and redundant task than this. With all the footage from the cameras and the audio from the headsets of him, Natalia and Clint; Bucky doesn’t see why a written testimony is needed. _Well, if it’s what Tony wants, I’ll do it_ …He thinks with an annoyed sigh.

Steve storms into the apartment an hour or so later, his every muscle wound tight, looking like he was ready to fight someone. Bucky knows that look…Well, he did, kind of anyway. He knew it when Steve was five-foot-four and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet with his pockets full of rocks. It was harmless back then, almost funny in a way. Like that little scrap was going to take on someone three times his size. But now, Steve’s six-feet-four-inches of solid muscle and immeasurable power, and that look was downright _frightening._ Whatever had happened down in the common room between he and Natalia had clearly left a mighty terrible taste in Steve’s mouth. 

As calmly as he can, Bucky lays his paperwork aside and rises from the table. He knows that in this kind of a situation, Steve was going to want to lash out. He was going to want to take his anger out on something. And the only thing in the room strong enough to withstand Steve’s strength was him. “Steve,” Bucky starts slowly, walking towards the fuming man. “Talk to me, pal. What happened?” 

Steve’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Bucky knows that he’s biting back something bad. “She _used_ me.” Steve spits, voice wavering, threatening to break. “I fell in love with her, and she _used me!_ I thought that’s what men did; took advantage of the way someone felt. I thought that maybe it was just bad timing like everyone tells me. But _NO,_ she was with Barton the entire fucking time, Buck. Natasha never gave a damn about me; I was just some…Something different when Clint wasn’t around.” He’s pacing the living room, one hand on his hip, the other buried in his hair as he vents. Bucky stands silently, both arms folded over his chest — steel over flesh — as he watches and listens. “What the hell was I supposed to do, turn her down?! HA! Yeah, like fuck I’d do that. I never _wanted_ to fall for her, it just happened! And she acts like _I was the one who did something wrong_!” 

Faster than Bucky realized, Steve grabs a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table and hurls it at the plate glass window across the room with a frustrated growl. The cup shatters with a crash, raining tiny shards onto the dark wood floors. He’d seen Steve like this only once before; the day Bucky had gotten accepted into the military and he was left behind because of his frail little body. Something about him now is even more heartbreaking than it had been back then Bucky realizes as he moves out of Steve’s way while he circles the coffee table, chest heaving. 

“You’d think she would have at least had the decency to tell me that she was with Clint. I asked her! I asked her if they were together before anything happened — because I’m a decent person like that — and do you know what she told me? She told me they were nothing. That there was nothing between them other than sex. I would have stopped before we slept together the first time if she’d just told me the truth and none of this would ever have happened. I wouldn’t be lying to myself when I say I don’t want her. I wouldn’t be so fucking hurt!” Steve’s cheeks have grown wet with tears that have fallen from his bluer-than-normal eyes, tears he probably doesn’t even notice. Bucky keeps silent still, watching as Steve chucks one of his sketch books across the room, scattering its pages everywhere, even though his every fibre is screaming at him to go wipe those tears away. It’s followed by another, then a heavy book that was sitting on the coffee table. “I was SO CLOSE to being past this! I was so close to being done with her. Then last week, she comes up to me, brazen as the day is long and has the nerve to try and speak to me about _‘us’_? Asks if I was ok, even! And of course, I tell her that I’m not, really and that I want to at least give us another shot. She didn’t say anything, of course, just smiled and walked away.

So, I tell her everything you just told me. Asked her what in the hell we were if she was with Barton. Oh, she got a kick out of that and tells me that there never was an ‘us’. Tells me that she’s actually been with Clint for what, three, four years now? IF SHE’S WITH CLINT, WHY THE HELL WAS SHE FUCKING ME!?”

Bucky watches as Steve goes to flip the coffee table and catches him around his midsection with his steel arm, its mechanisms wiring and clinking against Steve’s straining body. “You gotta calm down, Steve!” Bucky says in trying to diffuse the situation before the blond destroyed the entire apartment. “Why don’t you go and change and we’ll go down to the gym and blow off some steam?”

An elbow to the chin causes Bucky to stumble back, letting Steve go in the process. “Blow off steam!?” Steve laughs, wiping a hand down his face. “Jesus, Bucky, if it were that easy to forget everything I’d have done it months ago!” Bucky just sighs and slumps down onto the couch, watching helplessly as Steve continues his pacing of the living room. “You know what the worst part of all this is? I never had any intention of ever falling in love again when they woke me up. I went under with a heart heavy enough to sink a fucking ship, full of so much shit that got left unsaid. When I came to and everything came back to me, I promised I’d never let myself be pulled so low by someone else ever again, especially when I knew I couldn’t have them.” He swallows hard, runs both his hands through his hair and Bucky is almost afraid he’ll rip it all out. “But look at me now. I’m worse off than I ever have been.” 

A thought strikes Bucky then, at those words. Who had Steve been in love with before he went under? He knew that Peggy Carter had somewhat of a crush on Steve, and that Steve had kept her picture in his compass in the field, but had it really gone that far after Bucky fell? Bucky does his best to push the nagging question aside as he gets to his feet again, keeping his distance from Steve. “That’s not true.” Bucky offers. “You’re here, you’re alive. It could be so much worse, Steve.”

He can see the way Steve’s eyes turn on him then, and they’re filled with rage. Steve grabs Bucky’s shirt and hauls him in to the empty space between the kitchen and living room, shoving him roughly. _Ok, so he wants a fight._ Bucky thinks, catching his footing in time to block a punch. Another flies towards his stomach and he catches it with his left arm, before batting at Steve’s head with his right hand. Steve swats him away, landing a solid punch to his jaw. “Worse!?” Steve all but shouts, shoving Bucky backwards again and knocking him to the ground. Being as quick as he is, Bucky rebounds himself to his feet, swiping one leg out to try and trip Steve. But Steve catches it and flips Bucky back to the floor, this time on his stomach. “None of the people that I’ve ever felt _anything_ for will ever return it. Do you know how horrible that feels!?” 

_Preaching to the choir, Stevie._ Bucky thinks, kicking out with a bare foot, catching Steve square in the chest. 

The blow hardly fazes Steve, who keeps on ranting. “What am I supposed to feel!? Tell me! Am I supposed to be cold and emotionless? Am I even allowed to have feelings for someone else!? Is _Captain America_ allowed to be human sometimes?!” Steve’s fist misses Bucky’s face by a fraction of an inch, Bucky having turned his head at just the right moment. Bucky can see the tears just rolling down Steve’s face now, and knows it’s only a matter of time before the wall of anger crumbles and he dissolves. So he takes the beating. Bucky gets back to his feet and they exchange a series of fast smacks, the last one splitting Bucky’s lip open. “Tell me what to do here, Buck!” 

Bucky catches Steve’s fist in his metal hand, and lets their eyes meet. “I can’t do that, Stevie. I really can’t.” With more effort than he thought he’d need, Bucky shoves Steve away. “You just have to let her go.”

“It’s not _just_ Natasha!” Steve shouts, lunging for Bucky again. “Everyone I’ve ever loved or cared about is DEAD! My mother: Dead. Peggy: Not gone yet, but not far off it —” A fist connects with his stomach and Bucky feels a little winded, and not just from the blow. 

“I’m still here.” Bucky snaps, his tone a little harsher than he intended on it being. “So no, not everyone. You still have me.”

Steve stops then, his hands falling to his sides as he stares over at Bucky. He doesn’t say another word, but Bucky can see the exact moment when Steve completely falls apart. Bucky steps forward and sighs, motioning slightly for Steve to come to him. Steve does, and lets Bucky tug him in to his arms, his forehead resting on Bucky’s flesh and bone shoulder. Bucky feels the way hot, heavy tears drip onto his skin and Steve’s broad shoulders shudder with each shaky breath. “It’s ok, pal. I’m here.” He says gently, tugging Steve in as close as he can. Bucky’s heart can’t break any more than it does in that moment, hugging Steve in close, like Steve had done for him months ago now. He rests his flesh hand on the back of Steve’s head as the blond buries his face against Bucky’s neck, and holds tight to him with the steel one. Steve clutches at his shirt as Bucky talks to him softly, holding him tight to his chest.

“You’ll be alright, I promise.” _I’ll make sure of it._ “I know buddy, it hurts. It always does.” _I know better than you think._ He swallows thick, trying to remember how to breathe. “You can do so much better, Steve. You’ll find someone else.” _I’d never treat you like that._ “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” _No, but I do._

Steve pushes away from Bucky a few minutes later, wiping roughly at his eyes with the back of a hand. “God, what the fuck happened to me? I never used to be like this.” He says, trying to laugh the hurt off, but failing miserably. 

Bucky smiles a little. “Same thing that happens to everyone, Stevie, you might be pumped full of super-soldier serum, but you’re still only human.” Steve rolls his reddened eyes, trying to drive away the still falling tears. “We’ve all been here.”

“Except you.”

“No,” Bucky corrects, lowering his gaze. “Especially me.” Steve sighs again and paces the floor some more, both hands clasped behind his head, eyes focused on the ceiling. “Why don’t you go and get some rest?” Bucky says as he sits on the back of the couch, watching Steve closely. 

Steve nods. “Yeah.” His voice is rough from raising it so much, and the tears. “Yeah, maybe…” 

Bucky watches as Steve moves in a dazed way through the apartment, to his bedroom. He waits to hear the door shut, but it doesn’t. Bucky knows that it’s an unconscious cry for company on Steve’s part, as it always had been. No matter how brutal their fights got when they were kids, Steve would never shut Bucky out when it was over. It didn’t matter how mad he got, or how sad he was; Steve always let Bucky back in when all was said and done. Bucky waits a while, giving Steve some space, while he finishes up his report. 

It’s gotten very late, and Stark is expecting him in the lab first thing in the morning. Then again, Stark was always in the lab, so whenever Bucky showed up would be good enough. But he’s tired and sore; both from the mission and the beating Steve had just laid on him. Blood has dried on his lower lip and he runs his tongue along the split as he gets up from the table and stretches. He moves silently down the hall and pauses at his bedroom. _Just to be sure…_ He thinks, passing his own room by. He leans against the wall beside the door frame and tips his head towards the open door. “You ok?”

“Not exactly.” Comes the muttered reply. 

“Need some company?” 

“Yes please.” 

Bucky can’t fight the little smile on his lips as he moves quietly into the room, closing the door behind him. “Move in, then.” He says, poking Steve in the ribs. The blond glares at him in the dark and shifts over to make room. Bucky sits up with his back against the headboard, Steve sprawled out on his back, big blue eyes gazing up into space. They don’t say anything; just being near one another is enough. Bucky knows that Steve knows he can vent away, but Steve won’t. It’s not in his character to talk something to death like this. He’d gotten what he wanted off his chest, and that was it. Bucky knew not to push to make Steve open up either. That never ended well. But the silence was familiar and comfortable, and soon, Steve’s eyes sag closed and his head drops off to one side.

They’d done this a million times over the years; Steve sleeping quietly as Bucky keeps watch over his friend. Before, it had been to make sure the little runt was still breathing through the nights. After that, it was Bucky’s turn to stand watch for the Commando’s and Steve refused to let him sit up alone. Lately, Bucky simply just refused to sleep. He still has nightmares that leave him winded when he wakes up. Sometimes he finds himself screaming and once or twice he woke up with his steel hand clamped around Steve’s throat. But still, it was comfortable here, listening to the steady deep breathing that came from the sleeping man beside him. 

His eyes wander down to the sleeping face beside his right hip and his lips quirk into a weak little smile. “How’d we get here, Steve?” Bucky says quietly, as Steve sleeps. “Look at us, a couplea kids from Brooklyn...Well, we were. Now you’re Captain America and I’ve killed hundreds of people without knowing I did it. How’d we get so fucked up?” 

Bucky sighs and reaches down to gently brush a few loose strands from Steve’s face. “You know, there was so much I didn’t say back then. So much I should have told you before I shipped out.” He continues, knowing that the other’s sleeping deep enough that he can’t be heard. “Shoulda told you not to follow me, even though I know you weren’t gonna listen. Shoulda told you how perfect you were just as you were then. I really shoulda told you how I felt, too. That maybe you bein’ my best friend was never enough for me.” Bucky sighs sadly, his eyes closing for a moment. 

“Jesus Stevie, I should have said it when you saved my ass from Hydra the first time. Shoulda told ya right then and there in that room when I laid eyes on you…All big and strong and glowing gold. I thought I’d died, I thought you were an angel come to take me away. I guess I wasn’t entirely wrong…You just had a different destination in mind.” He smirks again and runs his flesh hand through Steve’s soft hair. “I had all the opportunity in the world before we started kickin’ ass with the Commandos too. Maybe we could have had some time together, ya know? Maybe if you’d gone that way, anyway. I could have said something so many fuckin’ times and couldn’t because I was scared. Maybe I should wait until you’re actually conscious before I say anything now, but I still can’t look you in the eyes and say it because I’m scared shitless you’ll force me out and I can’t deal with that, Steve. I can’t lose you again.” 

 Bucky slides down, so his head is on the pillows and he’s face to face with Steve. The blond’s face is slack and relaxed and for the first time that night, he looks at peace. Bucky turns onto his side to face Steve. His left hand comes up and gently rests against Steve’s cheek and Bucky wishes to god he could feel it under his fingers. Bucky lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t even realize he’s been holding, steel thumb running across the perfectly shaped cheekbone underneath it. “If you could hear me, you’d tell me this was terrible timing because of the whole Natalia drama you’re dealing with, but I don’t care. If I don’t say something, I’m going to lose my mind. I love you, punk. I love you so much that it hurts and goddamnit, I’d do anything to make you see that you don’t need her...That I’d do right by you.” 

He tilts his own chin up and presses his lips softly against Steve’s forehead, before leaning away. Steve’s face is still slack, though his lips have parted. Bucky shakes his head to himself and turns away onto his other side. It seems like no time before his own eyes close and he falls into a peaceful sleep…

_The Stark Christmas Gala takes place at a fancy hotel in the centre of New York, and the red carpets are rolled out for the rich and the famous. The Avengers make their way through throngs of people begging for a photo or autograph and Steve takes his time to stop and talk with a good many of them. Bucky stands by with a smirk, watching as his friend idly chats with the young any the old, the rich any the poor. Steve’s a good man, doesn’t discriminate. They finally enter the Gala and it’s a stunning sight. People from all over are dancing with one another, mixing and mingling as the orchestra plays a waltz from The Nutcracker. Bucky remembers seeing it danced in a theatre when he was just a child and to this day remembers the way the ballerina’s floated so gracefully across the stage. He smiles._

_Steve leads him through the people towards the bar, where he orders them both a glass of highly expensive whiskey. Bucky takes it gratefully and watches in silence as the people interact with one another. He’s not nervous, the anxiety is non-existent, and he feels great. Steve is all smiles and light as he always was, while he shakes hands with dignitaries and poses for more pictures with the guests. A pretty blonde slides up beside Bucky then, her hair pinned off her face and over one shoulder elegantly. Her emerald green evening gown flows gracefully to the floor, outlining her shapely body in satin. Bucky flashes a charming smile that matches the one she gives him. “Sergeant Barnes, is it?” The woman says, her voice a musical tone that Bucky had often times been drawn to back in the ’30’s._

_Bucky extends his right hand, nodding. “Indeed it is.” He says, as she moves to shake it. Bucky’s quicker and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her fingers. The girl flushes a deep shade of pink, and her once confident smile turns shy. “And to whom do I owe this pleasure.” Her name is lost over the applause of the crowd for the orchestra, but Bucky smiles all the same._

_"I see you’ve come her alone. That’s a shame; handsome thing like you ought to be out dancing the night away.” She says, sizing him up from where she stands._

_Bucky feels a strong arm slide around his waist as Steve finally pries himself from the sea of adoring fans. “Who says he’s here alone?” Steve says, giving the girl a smile as he winks. Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs as the woman’s eyes widen and her ruby lips drop into an ‘O’. She offers a sincere apology and shuffles away, clearly embarrassed as the pair chuckle to themselves. “See, I told you we should have just said something to the media beforehand. Now I have to beat the women away from you with a stick.”_

_Bucky snorts and turns to face Steve. “Yeah, because you’re really lacking attention.” He drawls, taking Steve’s hand, leading him to the dance floor. The rest of their team is already there; Pepper and Tony, Thor and his lady, Sam and some new date, Nat and Clint. But the eyes of every guest seems to fall on them. “This ‘saying something’ enough for you?” He asks, pulling Steve in close, before easily falling into step with the rest of the couples. Steve blushes a bright red, laughing and rolling his gorgeous blue eyes, but follows along…_

The dream fades as quickly as it had come and Bucky drifts somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. His can still hear Steve’s warm, loving laugh in his ears, and the orchestra playing Tchaikovsky. He sighs, still feeling the way Steve’s body had pressed against his, and the way that warm, strong arm had wrapped around his waist so perfectly, like Bucky was built just for that space. It had been the most pleasant dream Bucky could recall having. His lips tug back into a smile as he nuzzles into the pillow; oblivious to the fact that Steve’s body is folded around his, and that the arm around his waist is no illusion.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was about to rip this chapter apart and start from scratch, fearing it was straying too far from canon-Steve. But then a friend sent me this post from Tumblr(http://drop-deaddream.tumblr.com/post/90830889896/that-one-time-i-saw-chris-evans-back-sweat-and-also) and saved me from all my overly critical thoughts on my own work. It totally validated everything I was going for here.   
> So.. Thanks to the writer of said post, and good job Dominique for sending it to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Chris and I are working in tandem to create a massive (in terms of content) fantasy series. We've got a manuscript or two in the mail already, so wish us luck, and keep an eye out for our names on bookstore shelves near you!


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